All Bets Are Off
by ObliviousTrace
Summary: Sometimes, we don't always slip into the place that we are meant to fill. At least, that's what Seamus hopes. But then he's always been a dreamer.


**All Bets Are Off**

His mother always called him a dreamer. As she tucked him in at night, he would beg her to tell him the fairy stories, tell him of kings and queens and ages past. When she relented, he would let his body relax into the soft mattress and he would close his eyes and savor everything; the smell of peat on the fire, the gentle Irish lilt of his mother's voice as she wove fantasies and spun shadows into glorious tales.

He remembered his Dad's face, scared and uncertain, when as a young boy Seamus had turned his plain broccoli into exotic, wonderful flowers at the dinner table. He remembered that thrilling rush of power and that sense of another world. That night, he stayed crouched by the stairs and tried to understand what his mother was telling his father, but he just couldn't grasp words like 'muggle' or 'Hogwarts'. He knew enough to guess that he was different, but he had known that already.

He was eleven when his letter came clutched in the talons of a beautiful barn owl, and somehow he wasn't surprised. Seamus listened carefully to what his mother explained to him, and tried not to notice that his Dad looked pale and unhappy.

But already his mind was full of ideas and the sprouts of wonders to come. He had reveled in fairy stories as a child; now he got to live one.

It wasn't hard to make friends. The rest of his year looked as nervous and timid as he felt. When he was sorted into Gryffindor, he was pleased, mainly because the people at that table looked so friendly. He chummed up with the boys in his dorm, especially Dean Thomas. Seamus had heard the stories of Harry Potter, but the small, skinny kid with the brilliant green eyes didn't seem so special.

But it soon became apparent that he was. Harry, his friend Ron, and their friend Hermione soon rose to fame in the large school. Harry was…well he was Harry Potter, who defeated Voldemort once and who had staved him off six times and counting. Ron was funny and everyone liked him. And Hermione was brilliant. And she soon became beautiful. And she had a special quality that made Seamus go a little weak in the knees when he thought too hard about her.

Seamus was just Seamus. Everyone else in his year had managed to slip into their roles by seventh year, but he hadn't. Harry was the hero, Ron was the sidekick, Hermione was the damsel who would be snatched up by one of them. Draco Malfoy was the rival, Crabbe and Goyle were the goons, Lavender and Parvati were the beauties, Neville was the unexpected prodigy, and Dean was the artist.

Seamus sometimes wondered at the meaning of his existence. He didn't have a role other than the Irish kid, the person who would always somehow be an outsider because of his accent and the things he was used to. He did well in his classes, made the Quidditch team as a Beater in his sixth year, managed to get Lavender as a girlfriend, and had a secret passion for writing stories and poems that he never showed anyone, not even Dean.

And so he found himself in his seventh year, without a single idea what do to after graduation (really he wanted to write, but he couldn't tell that to anybody), with nothing better to do on a Sunday afternoon than to make stupid bets with his friends.

"C'mon, Seamus, you know it's got to be one of them, and it's got to be soon. I'm putting my money on Ron. He's going to ask Hermione out sooner or later."

"No, it has to be Harry. After he saves the Wizarding world of course."

Seamus rolled his eyes. His friends, predictably, had slipped into their normal patterns. Dean was the realist, sure of what he saw. Neville was the romantic, always believing in the power of the hero.

And what was Seamus?

"Look at the way they bicker all the time. If that's not obvious sexual tension, what is?" The dark-skinned boy neatly bit off the head of a Chocolate Frog as he completed his statement.

Neville shook his head. "They'd kill each other. Besides, Harry needs someone in the aftermath, you know, to heal his wounds."

Seamus snorted and turned back to the Quidditch magazine he was reading, trying to ignore the conversation. But his friends wouldn't let him.

A hand dragged down the cover of his magazine and Seamus glared up at his best friend. "Dean, I'm trying to read."

"You've read that issue already. What else is there to do anyway?" Dean yanked the magazine out of Seamus' hands and tossed it casually aside. "Let's see…I wager ten galleons that Ron and Hermione hook up by the end of the year."

"Ten galleons that it's Harry."

The pair turned to Seamus expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"C'mon, Seamus, what do you say? Harry, then Ron? Ron, then Harry? Both at the same time?"

"You can do that?" Neville asked, wide-eyed.

Seamus couldn't help but laugh. Neville blushed and scowled a bit.

"Seamus, just place a damn wager."

The Irish boy rolled his eyes. "Who says it has to be Harry and Ron? It could be someone completely different."

"Yeah?" Dean sounded skeptical. "Like who?"

_Like me. _"I dunno, like…" He cast his mind about for someone unlikely. "Like Malfoy." If there was even the slightest chance that Hermione could fall for someone other than Harry or Ron, it could be himself, couldn't it?

Neville and Dean stared at him for three full seconds before bursting into laughter. Neville was rolling on the floor and Dean looked like he was choking for breath, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

"That's a good one, Seamus! They hate each other!"

"Well, it could happen!" Seamus glared at the other two and tried to defend his position. "You know what they say, 'opposites attract' and 'there's a fine line between love and hate'." He couldn't think of any more clichés, so he decided to glare at his friends some more.

"Alright then," Dean said, still laughing. He went over to his trunk and removed a pouch and ten galleons. "Put your money in. Thirty galleons to the winner. I say Ron, Neville says Harry, and Seamus says," here he snorted. "Malfoy."

Seamus reluctantly put his money in the pouch. "What do we do if none of us wins? Like, if she goes out with none of them or with someone else?" He could dream, couldn't he?

Neville and Dean looked puzzled. "I guess we could just give the money to Hermione, if it comes to that." Dean finally said.

"Uh uh." Neville said warily. "If she found out that we'd betted on her love life, do you have any idea how bad she'd hex us? We should just donate it to that spew thing she keeps talking about."

It was decided. Hands were shook and the pouch was stored in the bottom of Dean's trunk. The three boys made their way down the stairs to dinner, and when Seamus spied a bushy head moving through the crowd, his heart skipped a beat. Then he saw the waiting form of Lavender, and sighed as he made his way over to his girlfriend.

OOOOOOOO

It was weeks later when in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, he made his way down to the common room with some parchment and a quill, hoping to work out the end of a story that had been worrying in his brain.

When he saw someone else sitting in front of the fire, he almost turned around to go back up to bed, but a soft voice stopped him.

"Who's there?"

With a sinking heart, Seamus recognized Hermione.

"Seamus."

Her face, rosy from the warmth of the fire, poked around the edge of her chair. She smiled when she saw him.

"Oh, hey Seamus. I thought for a moment that you were Harry. He doesn't sleep much lately."

He nodded, suddenly unable to speak. He made his way over to the chair opposite from her without tripping on anything, and found himself staring at her with nothing to say. They had never been alone together, only hung out in a group setting. Silently, he prayed to whatever deity that was listening to help him not make a fool of himself.

She was looking at the quill and parchment clutched tightly in his left hand.

"Planning to do some writing?" she asked pointedly. Seamus jumped a little.

"Well, not really, I mean, just a school assignment."

"Oh." Hermione seemed a little disappointed. Or maybe that was just his imagination. ("Seamus, you're a dreamer!" his mother seemed to be saying.)

They sat for a moment in silence before Hermione tried to make conversation.

"Seamus, what do you plan on doing after school? Everyone else seems to have it all figured out, but I've never talked to you." Her soft brown eyes were prompting him to answer.

"What, giving that I survive?" As soon as he said it, he wished he hadn't. The tension that he'd seen in her, in everyone really, in the past year reappeared, her face suddenly becoming tired. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No, it's what everyone is thinking. It's hard, trying to plan a life when you don't even know if you'll have that." She swallowed and stared off into the fire. Seamus felt his heart ache to see her so miserable.

"Actually, I was thinking of becoming a writer."

Her eyes lit up with interest and she turned back to him. "Really? I didn't know anyone else at this school liked to write." Hermione tilted her head a little and surveyed him. "You know, I could see you as a writer. You've got that, dreamy, poetic quality about you."

Seamus didn't know if she meant it as a compliment or not, but he blushed anyway. "It's just something I've always wanted to do."

"Well, good luck with that."

They sat in silence once again. Hermione looked like she was wrestling with something.

"Seamus," she blurted out. "Have you ever been attracted to someone you shouldn't be? I mean, someone other than the person that everyone thinks you're meant to be with, someone people may not think you're right for?" She was blushing furiously, looking ashamed at her question.

Hope bloomed in his heart. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Like everyone is supposed to fit with this one person. But it never actually turns out that way."

"But what do you do about it? Do you just let it slide, as a momentary thing, or do you try to pursue it?"

"Pursue it, definitely," he said as his heart leapt in his throat and his head called him a hypocrite. "Well, you should probably do that anyway. Or else, you're just going to be left with regrets when you could have memories. It's just sometimes hard to take that plunge."

"Wow. I'm glad someone else knows what it's like." Her brow furrowed slightly. "But what about Lavender? It's not really my place to ask, but…"

"No, it's okay." He sighed a little, looking down at the quill in his hands. "I don't know. Lav's great, but I can't really see it going anywhere, you know. But everyone thinks that it's meant to be, so…" Seamus shrugged.

"Yeah…" Hermione stared moodily into the fire again. Seamus felt more confused than he'd ever been in his life, and his heart was beating so hard he was sure that she'd hear it. _This is this part where I'm supposed to kiss you, or one of us confesses. Maybe I should just do it, it'd be so easy. It'd just take a couple of seconds. Hermione, I love – _

"Well, I should get to bed." She stood up abruptly and Seamus felt slightly crushed. "It was good talking to you."

"Yeah, you too."

"Good night." She smiled him and quietly went up the stairs to her dormitory. Seamus watched her go in silence. He had a lot to think about.

OOOOOOOOOO

It was a month before graduation when Seamus lay on his bed, scrawling out a sonnet. Ever since that night with Hermione, he'd felt inspired. Soon poetry began to flow out of him at every possible opportunity, mainly to do with her. He'd left lunch early when the idea for this one had struck.

Dean and Neville walked into the room gloomily, and Seamus quickly covered up the poetry with a book and pretended to read. He glanced up.

"Why do you guys look so depressed? Someone forget your birthdays?"

Dean went over to his trunk and, opening it, pulled out a heavy velvet pouch. Grudgingly, he tossed it over to Seamus who caught it automatically. He felt its weight and heard the chink of gold, but stared at it uncomprehendingly.

"You win, mate. Bet's off."

Seamus looked at the pouch in his hands, his mind finally grasping what Dean was saying. "Wait, you mean, they…?"

"Yep." Neville sat down on his bed with a sigh. "We saw them snogging outside of the Great Hall after lunch. Most of the school saw them, actually."

"We did more than just see, we were two of the eleven people needed to restrain Harry and Ron from jumping on Malfoy and beating him into a bloody pulp." Dean gave Seamus an admiring look. "I don't know how you did it, but you called it, alright."

"You guys are serious?" Seamus looked at them skeptically, willing it to be a joke. His chest felt as heavy as the sack of gold in his palms.

"Yep. Dumbledore even gave Slytherin and Gryffindor fifty points each, for promoting 'inter-house unity' or some sort of bullshit like that." Dean flopped down on his bed and picked up a discarded book. "Oh well. Loss of ten galleons, but that means I expect you to buy me a butterbeer next time we go to Hogsmeade." He began to read and Neville started in on his homework. Seamus set the pouch down on his bed and pulled the sheet of paper out from under his book. He stared at the half-finished sonnet, wishing he had the strength to tear it up.

OOOOOOOOO

The next morning, as everyone milled about in the common room before going down to breakfast, Hermione came bolting down the stairs excitedly.

"Look, guys, someone donated thirty galleons to S.P.E.W. anonymously! I can't believe it."

"It probably was your boyfriend." Ron grumbled quietly, and Ginny shot him a look. People began crowding around Hermione, marveling at the amount of money she held.

"Isn't it wonderful? Now we can get t-shirts, or sponsor a trip to the Ministry of Magic to picket them!"

Neville and Dean looked at Seamus curiously, but he avoided their gazes and took Lavender's arm gently. "C'mon, Lav, let's go down to breakfast." He listened to her chatter about her surprise at the donation politely, tuning out to what she said. Hermione spotted him heading out to portrait hole, and called out his name.

"Seamus, wait!" She hurried over to him and stood a little uncertainly. "Look, I just wanted to say thanks for your advice that night. It made me realize I should just go for it instead of ignoring my feelings. Thanks for that." She smiled and quickly hugged him. He hugged back, his heart shattering methodically as he tried to memorize the fleeting feeling of her in his arms, of the smell of her hair and the sound of her voice. Then she stepped back and he felt empty.

"Sure," he managed to say. "What are friends for?" He felt Lavender glaring at them and knew he would have a lot to explain later. But it didn't matter now, because Hermione was smiling.

OOOOOOOOO

Dean found him alone in the dormitory later and went over to him.

"Hey."

Seamus looked up from the poems he was looking over, not bothering to hide them. "Hey."

Dean sighed and leaned against the bed post. "You love her, don't you?" His dark eyes were waiting, full of some indefinable emotion.

"Yes." Seamus said simply, and looked back down at the sheets of parchment in front of him.

"How long?"

"It's been growing since first year."

"Look, Seamus, I'm sorry we made you do that stupid bet. If I'd known, I never would have done it."

Seamus shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I don't really care. I never really hoped for anything anyway. She was my unattainable." At Dean's quizzical look, he elaborated. "Everyone has their unattainable crush at one point or another. Mine was Hermione. Do you know what I mean?"

Dean gazed at him levelly, swallowing hard. "Yeah. I know what you're talking about."

Seamus suddenly realized something he had never seen before. He blushed a little and looked away. "Well," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "We should probably go down to dinner."

"Sounds like a good plan." Dean smiled and exited the room, leaving Seamus to collect up his poems.

His mom had always called him a dreamer, and he supposed that there was nothing wrong with that. But, he reflected, tucking away the fragile sheets into his trunk, that maybe it would have been better to seize reality while the chance still existed.

A/N: Just a little something I was playing with last night. The character of Seamus has always intrigued me, and I wanted to give him some depth.

On a side note, expect the next chapter of Expect the Unexpected tomorrow! I promise. Now that it's break, I hope to get back into the groove of that story and have it updated on a fairly regular basis.


End file.
